As they drew close to the place that Mitchell had directed them, Clay had started to wonder who it would be that the [Guard] would think would come to help. A part of him was holding out the fragile hope that some of his friends would have heard of his situation and come to find him. The Pellsglade Heroes or the Band of Ruffians would have been a massive help; both at once would make the final assault trivial. As confident as he was in both his and Olivia's abilities, a group of adventurers at or above Olivia's level would solve a lot of problems very, very quickly.

It didn't take long for those hopes to fade. As they drew near the tree, he didn't see a well-equipped, battle-hardened group of powerful adventurers. Instead, he saw a massive group of people milling around. All of them were dressed in what seemed like borrowed armor. Helmets sat uneasily on their heads, and their gambesons were occasionally a little longer than they should have been. They carried equipment that was normally reserved for [Guards], with spears and shortbows dominating most of it.

Clay looked at Olivia and saw her staring in abject horror at the crowd. She pointed. "The Rector is there."

He spun around. Sure enough, Rector Semmons was striding through the crowd, wearing a gambeson and helmet he never had dressed in before in Clay's memory. He was carrying a crossbow with a familiarity that Clay never would have expected, and was speaking with someone who had to have been David, the [Smith].

Now that he was looking, Clay began picking out other familiar faces. There was Adam from the general store, arguing with some woman he wasn't familiar with. They both carried knives and spears that he was sure the old merchant couldn't have known how to use. He saw Enessa's parents, the Moors; Teresa had a woodaxe on her shoulder, and was standing beside her husband Errol, who was plucking at his bow uncertainly. Half the Calmford clan seemed to be there, scowling in all directions and hefting a collection of spears, hammers, and bows. He even saw Peter and Elizabeth Wheatrose, looking nervous and ducking whenever anyone made a loud noise.

The Baron was there too, of course. He was walking among the others with the Rector, speaking with them and apparently resolving arguments or concerns. Herb was trailing after them, a slightly concerned expression on the [Guard]'s face. Clay felt a somewhat numb sense of relief to see the [Noble] there. At least the Baron had been fighting monsters for a long time; at level eight, he'd be some help, but the others…

His eyes landed on one pair of familiar faces, and he broke cover and was running before he had a second thought.

Sam and Amelia Evergreen turned to look at him as he drew close. They smiled, though Amelia's eyes went to the cut on his face and grew a bit more serious. His father was carrying an axe that Clay could have sworn once belonged to him, and his mother was carrying a spear, of all things. They wore the same helmet and gambeson as everyone else, which seemed like the gods were playing some sort of strange trick on him.

A murmur spread through the crowd as Clay drew near. Faces he'd known since childhood were turning in his direction, half-hidden under helmets or weapons they never should have worn. He ignored them all and spoke in a half-desperate voice. "Mom, Dad, you can't be here."

Sam snorted and Amelia smiled. "And yet…"

"It's not funny, Mom. Who's watching the farm? And Finn?"

His father answered in a calming voice. "Will has it handled, son. He's more than old enough to watch things for a few days." He shrugged. "If anything goes wrong, Goodman Mellows promised to look in on them."

Goodman Mellows was nearly seventy years old, and walked with a cane. Clay was halfway certain otherwise he'd have seen the old man among the rest. "You have to be kidding. There's no way—"

His mother reached out and put a hand on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, and she spoke before he could recover. "We heard that the King and the Guild were causing trouble. They actually came to Pellsglade first, looking for you. I guess they assumed you would be done here already."

Clay winced. "We ran into trouble, otherwise we might have been done."

"Well, we're here to help." Sam gestured to the others. "Everyone here is willing to help you fight against the monsters. If the Guild and the King aren't going to help, then we will."

"You can't." Clay caught others looking at them and stepped in closer. "The only thing left is the attack on the Lair itself. If I take all of you in there at level one, you're all going to die. I can't protect all of you."

Amelia's chin rose slightly. "At the very least, we'd have armor, and we wouldn't be alone. Not the way you were the first time."

Olivia spoke quietly from Clay's side. He hadn't noticed her arrive. "You wouldn't have any of the training or spells you'd need to make it work, Goodwoman Evergreen. The monsters in the fortress would have no problem killing you all."

"We know." Clay looked at his father incredulously, and Sam smiled. "To tell the truth, only the Baron's probably going to go into the Lair with you. The rest of us are going to stay outside."

"Then why…" He blinked. "You're not here for the monsters. You're here to protect us from the [Nobles]."

Amelia nodded, her eyes intent. "There were only half a dozen or so of them. They might feel confident facing one or two of you, but sixty [Commoners] are a few too many for them to ignore. You'll go in with the Baron and kill the Lair, the way you did in the Tanglewood, and when you come back out, you'll have us to make sure the [Nobles] don't try anything on your way home."

Sam nodded, and relief exploded through Clay. He'd pictured himself leading a desperate army of [Commoners] into the swinefolk and watching half of them die before they'd even cleared the wall. "Oh, all right. That… that makes a lot more sense."

His mother grinned. "See, not so much to worry about, was it? We'll just guard your camp and make sure nothing else happens." She looked past him. "I was expecting to meet this Baroness, however, and the rest of your people. Where are they?"

Clay hesitated, and his mother's gaze locked onto him in an instant. He knew immediately that there would be no way to avoid the truth here. "Well, there's been a few problems…"

A long, shout-filled while later, Clay sat with his father in the middle of a camp, eating his first genuinely good meal in a while. Hard ration soup wasn't exactly the delicacy it sounded like, and the bread and chicken were an absolute feast by comparison.

All around him, the [Commoners] of Pellsglade were bunking down for the night. They had brought plenty of tents and supplies. Apparently, the lot of them could use the [Chants] available to regular [Commoners], so they had just dragged everything here with Mule's Dismay. All of the horses, mules, and carts that would have been required to bring all the food and equipment were conspicuously absent.

"So, it's just been you and Olivia, then. Fighting against monsters and assassins and who knows what else." Sam's statement brought Clay back to reality. He looked at his father and nodded.

Sam's expression flickered through pride and worry, and settled on mischief, just as Clay took another bite. "And just one tent?"

Clay nearly choked on a piece of bread. He managed to clear it—just barely—and felt his face grow hot. "We didn't have much other choice, Dad. We had to make the best of it."

"I'm sure you did." His father waggled his eyebrows at Clay in a way that felt absurdly wrong. Clay was still deciding whether to throw his bread at his father when Sam went on in a far more reasonable tone. "So once the Lair is done, what are you going to do?"

The question brought Clay up short. He gave his father a blank look. "What do you mean?"

Sam's lips twitched as he studied his son. "Once the Lair is gone, you aren't going to be able to just stay here any longer, right? You won't have a request from a [Noble] to keep you here." He took a slow bite of his own soup. "So, what will you do? Are you going to work for the King?"

That answer was an easy one, at least. "No." Clay shook his head. "What he wants is something I'm not going to do. Ever." He looked at his father, trying to gauge his reaction. Sam didn't seem surprised or shocked, however. Instead, he just swallowed another bite and looked down at his bowl.

"Are you going back to the Guild, then?"

This question was a lot harder. From their perspective, the Guild was just trying to do the same thing he was—but they were doing it using methods that weren't going to work. If he let them drag him back to Crownsguard, not only would he have to constantly fend off King John's plots, he'd have to fight an uphill battle against every tradition and decision that the Council wanted to force on him.

It was the Council that was the real sticking point. They hadn't dealt fairly or honestly with him at nearly any point. Almost every action he'd taken had been met with suspicion and hostility, and even if they'd eventually come around, he'd had to fight them on almost everything. Even the Trickster had been more straightforward, and it was literally her job not to be!

The thought twisted a snort out of him. He shook his head, prodding at the chicken in front of him. For a moment, he wondered how different it would have been if they had talked openly with him. They could have warned him about King John's plans, could have told him from the start about the threat of [Wizards]. It would have been easy to trust them, then. Now…

He shook his head again and looked up. "I want to keep working with the Guild. They're doing their best. We just need something more."

Sam was watching him closely now, his soup more or less forgotten. "What does that mean? Are you going to go Rogue?"

Clay shook his head. "No, but I'm going to start something different." He looked out over the camp, and then back to where Janburg was hidden from view. "There aren't many other [Commoners] out there who can do this, but there are some out there. I'm going to start finding them and teaching them what they need to know. Everything they need to know, regardless of how the Guild or the King feel about it."

His father nodded slowly, as if he'd been expecting it from the start. He looked back at his bowl and started fishing around with his spoon. It was more like he was just mixing things around than actually looking for a bite. "That's not going to be easy."

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"No, it isn't." Clay could already see the obstacles unfurling in front of him. The assassins that had come after him wouldn't be the last. King John wouldn't be pleased with being told no, and the Guild would be equal parts terrified and infuriated. All of those problems would have to be dealt with, and more besides. How would he keep new [Wizards] from getting access to the Poisoned Wish? How would he hunt down [Commoners] who learned from him, and then turned to banditry or rebellion? How would he feed and equip them all?

Still, those questions were just that: questions. The decision had been made. He nodded to himself, finished off the last of his meal, and stood to go.

Sam stood as well and drew him into a hug. "I'm proud of you, son." Then he stood back and searched his face. "You're doing the best thing you could, and I'd never expect anything less. Just… remember to come home to us sometimes, all right?"

Clay nodded. "I will."

"Good." Sam grinned. "Now, with all those big plans, the best way to start is with a good night's sleep." His grin grew a little malicious. "Luckily for you, we brought an extra tent for you. No need to squeeze in with someone else. Isn't that nice?"

The absolute glee in his father's expression was just this side of infuriating. Still, what was he going to say? "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, son." Sam patted Clay on the shoulders and stepped back. "Sleep well!"

Disgruntled and unable to say exactly why, Clay made his way back to the place where his tent had been set up. It was on the edge of the camp, conspicuously on the opposite side of the place than the Rector's tent. He imagined Olivia would be sleeping in that area tonight.

He snorted at the irritation he was feeling and tried to get a grip on his emotions. It wasn't like he wasn't going to be able to see her. They'd be spending the entire day together.

Just not the morning, when the hair framed her face, and when she relaxed so beautifully in his arms, and she smelled just…

Clay snorted again and felt himself blush. Now was not the time for distractions like that. He had too many people depending on him, and too much to plan for. If Olivia was in his place, there was no way she'd be—

"Clay?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. When he turned, Olivia was raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah." He scratched at the back of his head and tried to fight down his blush. "Sorry. Just thinking about things."

She smiled a little, as if she'd seen through the excuse. "I told the Baroness that we're planning on destroying the Lair tomorrow."

Clay felt his feelings settle a little. "Did you apologize about not being able to include her?"

"She understood." Olivia shook her head and snorted. "Though it took a little time before she understood how I was talking to her. Distant Whispers was something she hadn't heard of before."

He nodded. "At least she knows. Did she say anything about the [Nobles]?"

"Only that they were still holding Andrew, Lana, and Mitchell, and that they were ignoring her requests to help. She seems… unhappy with the Guild's decisions."

Clay grunted. "I can imagine." Then he looked back at her, seeing her looking south. Towards the Lair. "How are you doing?"

She looked back at him, a smile twitching her lips. "I'm… nervous. I've dreamed of this moment, since the time the Baroness saved me. Every night, I'd make myself the promise that I wouldn't forget. That I'd take my revenge for the people I've lost. And now…"

He stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's going to happen, Olivia. I promise you that."

"I know." She looked back at him with a smile. "For so long, I didn't even think I'd be able to get the chance to be here. To actually fight for Zelton, or push back the monsters from my home. I didn't think I would."

She laid her hand on his and smiled. "And then I met you. Someone who was already fighting them, no matter what stood in your way. You destroyed them, the way I always wanted to. You showed me it could be done. And now you've helped me do it here too. I don't think I could ever thank you enough."

Clay was still searching for a response when she moved in closer. He froze when her lips caressed his cheek, and then she was stepping back, a familiar blush on her face. She took another step back. "You just promise that you won't leave me behind, Clay. And I'll promise to stand by you, whatever happens." Olivia stepped back again, avoiding his eyes. "I'll see you—"

"Oh, no you don't. Not this time." Clay took two quick strides before she could react. Her eyes went wide as he caught her up in his arms. She made a slight sound of surprise as his lips met hers, but she fit in his arms like she'd been made for them. Her arms were around him in turn a moment later, and for just that small eternity, they lost themselves in each other. It was a moment he wished could last forever.

It ended all too soon. Clay pulled back, seeing the slightly dazed look on her face with satisfaction. When she focused on him, he grinned down at her. "Serves you right for ambushing me."

She blushed an even deeper red, and buried her face in his chest for a moment. Then she pulled back enough to glare up at him in false outrage. "That was clumsily done, Sir Clay. A lady expects a bit more grace with that sort of thing."

He was grinning like an idiot, and couldn't care less about it. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to practice, Syr Olivia. A lot."

"I suppose you shall." She stepped back, still blushing like the sun itself. Her chin raised imperiously. "So I expect you to survive tomorrow. Understand?"

Clay bowed. "I believe I do. Good night."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing and then darted away through the camp. Clay watched her go, his heart thumping away happily inside his chest. Then he sighed and turned back to the tent. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to sleep after that, but he'd need to find a way.

Then his eyes fell on a nearby sheet of parchment, and he paused. There was one more thing he'd been putting off that he needed to do. Better now than never.

He scratched the ink across the page, comforted in the glow of the kiss until long after she'd gone.

The next day, the entire [Commoner] army marched towards the Lair.

They moved together, with the supplies they needed for the day on their backs. Each of them walked across the river using Floating Step and then trudged their way up the opposite bank.

Clay was nominally in charge, mostly to provide his bonuses to everyone in the group. Just because he was fairly sure that the swinefolk had been driven back didn't mean that there weren't a few hiding out there that might decide to make an appearance. At least they were all searching their surroundings for any sign of the enemy as they made their way closer to the Lair.

By midday, they had already passed both of the first two rings of towers. They paused long enough to eat a brief lunch. Then they continued past the last ring and found the bowl waiting for them.

The others murmured as they saw the corruption caused by the Lair. Baron Pellsglade merely glanced at it with distaste, but many of the others took to batting away the broad leaves and muttering about a wrongness in the air.

They weren't foolish for doing so. It seemed like Clay could feel the Curse raging inside its Lair as they drew closer, flailing against its approaching fate. He smiled grimly as they approached the fortress walls.

The monsters were waiting. He could see crowds of them clumped up together on the walls, looking down on the approaching intruders. Their eyes glowed with a telltale red light, and they seemed unusually silent, especially the squealers and shriekers among them. There had to be several hundred of the creatures, all ready to rain debris down on any attackers that got close.

Baron Pellsglade called for the march to halt a few hundred strides short of the wall. He studied the fortress with a grim expression before he turned to Clay. "Sir Clay, how do you propose we breach the enemy walls? In mundane warfare, we would have to spend time undermining their walls or building catapults. Here, however…"

The Baron's words trailed off as Clay waved away his concerns. He looked at the creatures dotting the walls and then smiled. "I think we can probably clear the walltops, at least. Let's see if I can encourage them to come out."

Before the Baron could ask any further questions, Clay strode out in front of the walls, followed by Olivia. He walked until he had closed to less than a hundred strides and began the [Chant] for the Anthem. He saw a flicker of satisfaction in Olivia's expression before she started her own [Chant] for the Canticle of Ice.

Clay ran through the words of the [Chant], focusing until he reached the mirrored section. This time, he repeated the phrase again and again. On the third repeat, he felt like he was ready to unleash it. On the fifth repeat, he could feel the power of the [Chant] straining at his control as if the power was thrashing like a wild thing. By the time he reached the seventh repetition, he could tell that any more, and he'd lose the [Chant] entirely.

So Clay began the ending of the [Chant] and focused on the figures that were waiting atop the walls. The swinefolk seemed to stir slightly, as if they were uneasy. Perhaps some instinct warned them that things were not about to go well for them. He could see them shifting on the ramparts, and some of them were shaking their heads as if they were fighting the Guardians' control.

They failed to regain their independence in time, however. Clay reached the end of the [Chant] and unleashed it, letting the power that he had assembled flow out and into the ground and sky.

For a long moment, it seemed like nothing had happened. The distant squeals and grunts of the swinefolk built, as if they sensed something was about to happen.

Then the first lightning bolts struck out of the clear blue sky, slashing in at the walls in a flash of light. Creatures were sent flying from the wall top as thunder roared and sheer power flashed across Clay's vision. The barrage went on and on as more and more lightning bolts rained down, reducing swinefolk to charred corpses, or knocking them screaming from the walltop. Notifications scrolled through the [Gift], though he ignored them and tried to stay focused.

It ended all too soon, but when it did, the swinefolk were already retreating from the walls. Those who weren't seemed like they were too wounded to follow their fleeing companions, and were being abandoned where they lay atop the walls.

A moment later, the gates of the fortress abruptly began to creak open. Clay smirked at them as the gap widened, revealing a horde of screaming swinefolk ready to charge. He glanced at Olivia, who was still wrapped inside her own [Chant]. He started his own recitation of the Canticle just as the first half-dozen spears of ice sailed out to kill the front few swinefolk, clogging the entrance and preventing them from leaving the fortress.

"Form ranks! Form ranks!" Clay blinked and looked back to see the Rector walking along the double line of [Commoners], getting them into formation. Some of the others were giving the man offended looks, but he seemed completely unaffected by them. When they had taken their places, the old man shouldered his crossbow. "Aim! Loose!"

A swarm of arrows and crossbow bolts shot into the air. Clay watched as they plunged into the ranks of the horde as it left the gates. Most of the projectiles bounced off of the swinefolks' thick hides, but here and there an eater stumbled and fell, or a squealer screamed in rage as it staggered.

Still chanting, Clay shrugged and drew out his own bow. His first shot caught a smasher in the head, killing it instantly. The Baron brought out a longbow that Clay had never seen him use, and Olivia began to spin her sling. Each of them began picking off targets as the enemy closed.

The swinefolk continued their charge, but they hadn't even crossed half the distance when Clay sent his own shower of ice among them, slaughtering half the front ranks. He started the Refrain immediately after. A second volley of arrows and bolts came down a moment later, knocking down even more of them, followed by more ice spears from Olivia. He sent yet another volley of ice spears, killing the most enthusiastic among them.

In the end, Clay killed the last of the swinefolk a full thirty strides away, putting an arrow through the throat of an already wounded smasher. As it fell, the fortress gates began to close. They shut with a resounding bang, leaving the field outside the walls carpeted with dead monsters. As they did, the [Commoners] all cheered, obviously happy with their first taste of battle.

The Baron viewed the door with dissatisfaction. "I suppose that was nice, but we still can't get past that easily. Do we make ladders? Or can you create another lightning storm?"

Clay shook his head. "No. I think… something tells me that [Chant] isn't meant to be used in quick succession. It probably wouldn't break the rock, anyway." Frowning, he studied the gates. They hadn't seemed that thick. Then he looked at Olivia and grinned. "No. I think I'll just knock. Really loud."

He started the [Chant] of the Canon of Rock, and Olivia stifled a laugh. The Baron looked at them curiously, at least until the boulder formed over Clay's head. Then he simply stood back and watched.

It took a full three [Chants], but the gate crumpled under the barrage. He sent a few more boulders in at the walls just to make sure that there weren't any more swinefolk hiding on the ramparts. The impacts sent stone chips flying and pieces of red and pink masonry cascading down towards the ground. With each hit, more cheers rose from the [Commoners] behind him.

Then Clay nodded. "All right. We're going in. Baron, are you joining us?"

The Baron hefted his sword. "I will, Sir Clay." He looked back at the other [Commoners], many of whom were staring at Clay with something approaching awe. "Rector, if you would make sure everyone stands ready out here?"

Rector Semmons gave the Baron a brief salute. "Of course, my lord. If anything happens, we'll signal you with the horns."

Clay grimaced. The horns would be the signal they used if the [Nobles] appeared from Janburg. Hopefully, they would stay crouched down in the village until everything was all over, but there was always the chance they would try to interfere.

Trying to set that particular bad circumstance out of his mind, Clay started forward. He had a Lair to kill.

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